


Let Them Eat Cake

by minervamylove



Series: Femslash February 2019 [1]
Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Chefs, Baking Competition, F/F, Fluff, Valentine's Day, i don't watch enough food network or great british bake-off for this to be realistic i'm sorry, this competition is kinda sorta based off of the one in that vanessa hudgens christmas movie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-21 09:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17639813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamylove/pseuds/minervamylove
Summary: Hecate Hardbroom and Ada Cackle are award-winning pasty chefs with extremely different philosophies about both life and baking. Will a prestigious culinary competition bring the two women together, or will the antics of Ada's jealous twin sister stand in the way of sugar, spice, and everything nice?





	Let Them Eat Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill for ballion and missc-sblog, who requested anything Hackle!

The sun shone pale and bright over the chill February morning like clarified butter, the perfect beginning of a perfect day. It was an auspicious sign, one that led Hecate Hardbroom to greet the day with a brisk nod as she looked out of her kitchen window.

Hecate simply didn’t hold with anything less than perfection.

Today, of all days, everything would be exactly as she willed it, or she would not be held responsible for her actions. After over a decade of making a name for herself professionally, she had finally been invited to compete in the ridiculously prestigious National St. Valentine’s Day Bake-Off. Ridiculous, because Valentine’s Day was barely a holiday. Prestigious, because it was widely televised, and judged by top pastry chefs and food critics from all over the country. If Hecate comported herself well and showed off her prodigious talents, she would be catapulted to heights that would make her previous awards and reviews look like nothing. Assuming, of course, that she didn't make a fool of herself on national television. Which she assuredly _would not_ , thank you very much.

Hecate surveyed herself in the hall mirror. Dark hair: pulled into an uncompromising bun.Set of jaw: determined. Steely glare: formidable. Black mock turtleneck: neat, professional, and devoid of visible cat hair. “Hecate Hardbroom,” she said to her reflection through gritted teeth, “You will not fail.” After all, there was simply too much riding on this for her to do otherwise.

* * *

Ada Cackle greeted the day with a smile, a cup of hot chocolate, and some brief but soothing yoga that was only slightly hindered by the insistent presence of her cat, Pendell, on her mat alongside her. She wanted to make sure that her head was on straight before she drove to the television studio where the Valentine’s Day Bake-Off was taking place. Ada had always been quietly confident in her baking abilities— after all, her taste buds didn't lie— but competition on this large a scale was nonetheless intimidating. It was far too easy for her to slip back into old habits, to convince herself that everyone saw her as unworthy: dowdy and plain in her pink cardigan and apron; _she’s only a common baker, didn't you know? Not a pâtissier from an expensive restaurant._ And indeed, the fact that her humble shop had been written up in culinary journals, the fact that she was good enough to be invited to a national competition, didn't often seem to hold water with the peers who considered themselves above her. Ada vowed to prove them, as well as her own vicious inner critic, dead wrong.

Ada stopped off at her bakery on her way out of town, to open up and make sure that her assistant and temporary shopkeeper was all set up.

“Good morning, Ada!” Julie Hubble, proprietress of the flower shop across the street, greeted Ada with a cheerful wave. “Big day ahead, eh?” Before Ada could do more than smile in return, she was seized by a skinny, grinning bundle of energy.

“You’re going to do so great!” At thirteen, Julie’s daughter Mildred was about as tall as Ada, a clumsy and enthusiastic slip of a girl. While she had been responsible for more than her share of scrapes and muddles as a child, Mildred was earnest and responsible, and Ada felt very little worry about leaving her in charge of the till at Cackle’s Cakes and Comforts _._ As long as the girl stayed away from the ovens, there was only so much that could go wrong.

“Thank you, Mildred. You have my mobile number in case of emergency, yes?” This was directed mostly at Julie, who gave Ada a wink and a thumbs-up.

And that was that. The shop was sorted. It was time to tread on much less familiar ground.

* * *

The trio of judges this year was impressive indeed. Egbert Hellibore, referred to in hushed and reverent whispers as “The Great Wizard,” had been a Cordon Bleu trained chef de cuisine at one of London’s poshest restaurants before he turned his attention to crafting desserts. He mastered his secondary discipline so quickly that it seemed like magic. The second judge was Pippa Pentangle, who was the founder and principal instructor of Pentangle’s Pastry Academy, widely regarded as one of the best culinary programs in Britain. Finally there was Ursula Hallow, a notoriously hard-to-please food critic for The Times.

These judges’ opinions really meant something. Their good word was worth just as much as the hefty monetary prize for winning the competition. Hecate needed it all— the money and the praise. It was the only path out of this Broomhead situation.

Hecate had arrived quite early at the studio, and was busy readying her station. As she worked, she took stock of the competition setup. That was the judge’s table, of course, and there was the ingredient pantry. She had been shown to the second of four stations upon her arrival, and she stared at the other three, wondering which of her competitors would be placed where. She knew who they all were, of course. Dimity Drill from The Golden Bowl. Mona Spellbody from Amadeus. And Ada Cackle, the only competitor Hecate had to research. Apparently she owned a bakery that had been written up favorably, but that was all she really found out. Ada was a wild card, and Hecate Hardbroom distinctly disliked wild cards.

“Excuse me?” Hecate nearly jumped out of her skin at the tap on her shoulder, her back arching like that of a frightened cat as she whirled around. “Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry!” The woman who had accosted her clapped her hands over her mouth, mirroring Hecate’s distress.

In the reviews of Ada Cackle’s bakery that Hecate had read, there had been no photographs of Ada herself. But this could only be she, as the woman was wearing an apron and was decidedly not Drill or Spellbody, with whom Hecate was professionally acquainted. Ada was head and shoulders shorter than Hecate, built softly and roundly with generous curves and plump cheeks that blushed fetchingly. Her shining silver hair fell neatly just below her chin, and her eyes were the brightest blue that Hecate had ever seen. In short, Ada Cackle needed to be reclassified immediately: a woman this beautiful was no longer simply a wild card, but a very real and serious threat to Hecate’s concentration.

“I’m sorry,” Ada said again. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I only wondered if you knew which place was mine? I’m Ada Cackle.” She held out her hand with a friendly smile, still blushing slightly.

Hecate ignored the proffered hand, well aware that she was being rude, if not outright hostile, but unable to be anything else. “Hecate Hardboom. You’ll have to find a staffer; I’ve no idea where you should be.”

Ada’s smile wavered as she lowered her hand slowly, and Hecate cursed herself inwardly. “Oh. Well, all right, then—”

“You can work next to me, sister,” said a voice from Hecate’s right.

* * *

Ada froze. Everything was going terribly, horribly wrong. First, there was the austere woman in front of her, who was so jaw-droppingly attractive that it hurt to look at her, and who obviously already thought Ada a massive fool. And, as if that wasn’t enough to wrong-foot her, there was _this_ nightmare.

Agatha. Her malicious twin sister was here, wearing an apron that marked her as a Bake-Off competitor.

Ada couldn’t help but wonder if she’d crashed her car on the way here, died, and ended up in hell for some unknown sin.

She did her best to regain her composure, although both Agatha and Hecate had no doubt already noticed her unattractive, dumb-struck gaping. “Agatha? What on earth are you doing here?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Although Ada and Agatha were identical, the smirk that Agatha wore now made her look nothing like her sister. “Poor What’s-Her-Name Spellbody’s in the hospital with a broken hip. They had to find a new fourth competitor. Et voila!”

“And you were the logical choice? You’ve been in America, Agatha!”

If her first smirk had been diabolical, this one was pure evil. “Well, it seemed a shame to remain there when there was such exciting television to be made. I’ll admit, the judges weren’t sure about choosing me, but the network convinced them. Rival sisters? The ratings will be higher than ever. And anyway,” Agatha finished with a cruel twist of her lips, “They let _you_ into this silly contest, didn’t they? It’s not like they’re upholding some gold standard.”

Ada blushed, and it was a much less pleasant feeling than the way her cheeks had warmed upon first seeing Hecate Hardbroom’s striking face.

“Excuse me?” Speaking of Hecate, the other woman looked abruptly furious, so much so that Ada had to fight the impulse to take a step backwards. But her anger was directed at Agatha, not Ada. “I don’t know who you think you are, but this competition is the event of the year. If you were a chef of _any_ consequence, you’d know that.” She sniffed and stalked away, but Ada saw her turn back briefly, a hint of curiosity in her dark eyes alongside something else, something that just might have been sympathy.

**Author's Note:**

> whoops guess this is going to have at least one more chapter; it got away from me


End file.
